


Color In the Rain

by esmaewrites



Series: falling in color [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Artist! Kenma, Demi! Kenma, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, KuroKen - Freeform, M/M, Slow Burn, There is also a SHIT TON of backstory in this, hes def demi but its not mentioned, i put all of my hcs in one fic what have i done, road trip trope, there is so much angst in this later on, this is gonna be like 30 pages long brace urself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-05-16 04:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5814205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmaewrites/pseuds/esmaewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo is leaving for college. Surely that's why Kenma furiously sketches him to the point of obsession. Why Kuroo catches himself staring at Kenma for perhaps too long. Or why both of them can't shake the feeling that somewhere along the lines of their long friendship something got tangled along the way.<br/>But that's because Kuroo is leaving.<br/>Right?</p><p>(look in tags)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first /official/ fic so i figured why not dive headfirst into kuroken hell.  
> i noticed there's not a lot of really long fics out there for kuroken and i love this pairing so here u go.  
> 

**▼**

Snow fell from the sky in dizzying circles. Snowflakes rose and fell in gusts of wind like a beating heart. Kenma tilted his head back and let the wind tear at his face. It didn't seem to snow that much, and the cold air felt good on his cheeks. He pulled his scarf up and continued walking. Shadows stretched longer as street lamps became the only source of light.

**§**

Kenma curled his hand in hesitation, then tapped lightly on the apartment door. He checked his phone. It was late, he doubted Kuroo would even be up, though was pleasantly surprised when the door creaked open.

"I thought you would be asleep," Kenma said, not bothering to be asked inside. He closed the door behind him, thankful for the warmth and comfort of Kuroo’s home.

"It's only ten," Kuroo answered, looking down at Kenma with a soft smile.

"That's late," Kenma replied, dropping his bag by the door. "You never answered my text. Can I crash here before we go on our road trip?"

"Of course," Kuroo said sheepishly, running his hand through his hair.

"I'll sleep on the couch," Kenma collapsed onto the sofa. He threw his feet over the back of the couch and started scrolling through his phone. Kuroo sighed, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the apartment. He sat down next to Kenma.

"Are you going to go to sleep?" He asked softly.

"Probably not," Kenma said. Kuroo stared down at him, there was a long, comfortable silence before Kenma spoke.

"Why are you leaving?"

"I have to," Kuroo answered quietly, head tilted back, gazing up at the ceiling. They sat in silence for a little while longer. Kenma pulled his knees to his chest and turned slightly away from Kuroo.

"I don't want you to."

Kuroo was quiet. “I know.” He looked down at his fidgeting hands and willed them to still. After a moment, he stood up.

"Goodnight, Kenma."

For a moment there was no response. Kuroo scowled. He turned to leave

"Goodnight, Kuro,” Kenma said faintly, before Kuroo could walk out of the room. Despite himself, Kuroo was content with the sentiment.  

Kuroo cast one last glance at Kenma, then stalked off to his bedroom. He stepped inside and eased the door shut. In his isolation, his focus sharpened – he was painfully aware of the edge to Kenma's voice, and the fact that by the end of the summer he would be leaving his best friend indefinitely that with each day he would soon leave Kozume Kenma, made it hurt even more. Kuroo had to leave Kenma. They would both be alone. Involuntarily, he flinched. Kuroo curled his nails against his palm and sighed.

 _Four more weeks_ , he thought.

The thought of prolonging the inevitable didn't comfort him.

Kuroo turned towards the mirror at the end of his small bedroom. He resisted the urge to pull his hair in front of his face – a nervous habit which had remained dormant since junior high. In fact, by his first year, Kuroo had managed to control every tick and habit with ease. He no longer bit his lip, touched his hair, or drummed his fingers.

Kenma told him it was unnerving, how controlled he had become.

He sighed and quietly went to bed. He didn't sleep.

**§**

Kenma waited until he heard the click of Kuroo's bedroom door. He slid silently off the couch and retrieved a blanket from his bag. Carefully, Kenma walked over to the couch and draped the blanket over his lap. He turned on his phone and tried to play a game to distract himself. His hands shook.

Alone. The word played over and over in his mind. Kenma took a deep breath and told himself he was being unreasonable. Kuroo had every right to leave. No, Kuroo had to leave. Kuroo was graduating and had a life to start and places to be, high school left behind him. He’s been working hard and deserved every bit of it. Besides, it was only one year before Kenma would be graduating as well.

 _He's leaving you_ , Kenma thought. He had no idea why the words stung, but they did. His phone clattered to the floor as he curled his hands into fists at his side. It took him a moment to quell the emotions rising in his chest.

"Shit," Kenma whispered, reaching down and grabbing his phone off the floor. He tucked it under his side and resolved to go to sleep. He pulled the blanket over him and buried his face in the pillows, surveying the living room before he closed his eyes.

 _Everything will be okay_ , he forced himself to think. He was warm, and tired, and safe – but still his arm hung off the couch, like a cold, numb reminder that all this comfort would soon be gone.

❚❚


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some backstory for Kenma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was going to put this up late last night, but for once in my life i actually got sleep.

▼

Kenma awoke to the smell of coffee. Burnt coffee. As sat up he noticed two more blankets draped over him: one of them was emerald green embroidered with little black cats. Kenma sighed. 

"When did you wake up?" He called towards Kuroo, who was humming in the kitchen.

"Four," Kuroo replied. 

"Idiot." 

Kuroo bounded into the living room, to-go coffee cups in hand. Kenma took it happily, he had long ago learned to stomach Kuroo's coffee.  

"You're coffee is shit, Kuro," he said, nonetheless. 

"You love it and you know it," Kuroo shot back.

"Do not."

"Do too."

The argument was familiar to Kenma, and it eased the dread hanging in his stomach. He smiled faintly to himself. 

"Whatever," Kenma sighed, "Are you even packed?" 

In an overtly dramatic gesture, Kuroo put his hand to his heart and feigned offence.  

"Why of course I am," he replied. 

"Sure."

Kuroo left to get packed. Kenma felt himself smile.

**§**

Miraculously, Kuroo's car managed to fit all their luggage. 

"Kenma, you are over-packed," Kuroo said forcing the car door closed. 

"No I'm not," Kenma replied, not making any indication that he was going to help his struggling friend.

"You brought a gaming console,"

"Just a small one," Kenma continued to tap away on his PSP, "You put that in a safe place, right?" Kuroo tossed his hands up in the air in exasperation and threw the last bag in the backseat.

"My car is going to break,"  

"As if it isn't broken already."

"So mean, Kenma-chan," he practically stuck his entire head through the window, his tone playful. Kenma looked up, about to wittily reply, but the sight of Kuroo made him hesitate. 

Kuroo's face was flushed from the cold, his hair somehow messier than it always was, gold eyes shining in the bright day. And he was wearing his Nekoma jacket. 

Kenma winced. The uniform was usually a comfort, something Kenma and Kuroo had shared. Volleyball had linked them. Now, it was slipping from Kenma’s reach.

Now, it was just a painful reminder that it would soon all deteriorate. 

Kenma turned back to his game. 

"You're not planning on leaving without saying goodbye, are you Tetsurou? Hm?" A familiar voice chimed. 

At first glance, Kuroo Tetsu looked like the carbon copy of her son – they had the same jet black hair, bronzed skin, athletic frame, and amber eyes. Their names were even similar. However, if you had known both Kuroo Tetsu and Kuroo Tetsurou for the amount of time Kenma had, the differences were plain. 

Tetsu's face was lined with worry lines instead of laughter. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, sleek ponytail, unlike her son's bed-head mess. Her back was straight and careful. Kuroo Tetsu was thoughtful in ways Tetsurou was not. 

She was more similar to Kenma than anything.

"Of course not," Kuroo said, grinning. He tossed the keys to Kenma through the window. Kenma leaned over and started the car effortlessly. The warm air felt good on his face. 

Kuroo talked just outside Kenma's earshot, but Kenma read his body language. For Kenma, it was easier to watch people’s ticks speak for themselves rather than listen to the lies they told.

But Tetsurou would never lie to him.

Kenma focused. Watching Tetsurou gave him a strange sense of comfort. It was as though Kenma had fallen into sync with him and was now off kilter without him.

Kenma hated being dependent. 

The conversation started off light. Kenma watched, observing Kuroo’s faint (and perpetual) smirk. Kenma thought he might have imagined it but Tetsu’s seemed to flick to him before she said some parting words to her son. 

Tetsurou stilled, his shoulders pulled and he turned slightly away from his mother. It was faint, but Kenma had spent the majority of his free time noticing details.

Whenever Kuroo was angry he was absolutely still. His eyes fixed on one place and didn't move. His fingers never twitched. His lively personality went silent.

_ It's unsettling when Kuro's still, _ Kenma thought.

Kuroo turned to leave, obviously tired. The right door clicked open and Kuroo slid in, his eyes dim as he turned on the radio. Kenma glanced at him nervously, putting his PSP in his bag at his feet. He stared carefully at Kuroo until he spoke.

"I'm fine." 

"Okay."

"Honestly."

"Okay."

Kuroo pulled out of the driveway and slowly seemed more at ease as they began to drive. Kenma pulled out his sketchbook and lost himself in thought.

**§**

It was only natural Kenma took up art. Essentially, he did five things with his life: he went to school, played games, read, watched a variety of television, and slept. 

It didn't make Kenma bored, it just sort of... let him fade away. Everything he did was so routine, people didn't tend to notice him. Even at the age of 8 years old, Kozume Kenma had mastered the art of remaining invisible. 

Every time a glance was passed his way, or his name was said within earshot, Kenma's breath stopped dead in his chest. It was easier to disappear.

It was so simple to not be. To merely pass by... Kenma was a passerby in his own life.

Until that day that the persistent emptiness of his mind demanded to be filled. 

He grabbed a forgotten coloring book and flipped to the blank page in the back. Kenma started to draw.

Kenma had always been annoyingly observant; he guessed that came from not caring what happened in your own life you started to notice things around you. He remembered every detail, every word. But his empty head had nothing to do with them. So he put them to a page.

He sketched a cat. His first actual sketch, not a crudely drawn crayon--thing. Or a page where the lines had been done for him. Something he created, just like that.

And it was absolute shit.

Somehow not disheartened, he continued. Drawing on his free time, doodling in the margins of his school papers. This system continued for years. It wasn't until he was about 9 years old his drawings developed depth and accuracy. He was around 9 when he started to draw in public.

It drew attention to him, unnecessary attention. But he didn't care; it filled the white noise in his mind. 

Kenma was drawing a pond, filled with koi fish, rain slashing down in harsh dull greys. The ground around the pond was black, and the fish themselves were the only bright things in the entire drawing. It was rather distressing. 

Suddenly a mark of vibrant blue dotted the page.

"I think rain is bright. Don't you?" A tall boy with a shit eating grin on his face and perpetual emo hair was seated next to him, twirling a blue pencil on his fingers. Kenma gave him a most murderous glare, and snatched the pencil away from him. 

And continued to draw. 

"I'm Kuroo Tetsurou." 

In response Kenma made a noise which may or may not have sounded like 'Kozume Kenma,' but otherwise remained silent.

The two had been inseparable ever since.

**§**

"How much coffee had you had today?" Kenma questioned.

"Not enough," Kuroo replied, taking a long swig of the newly purchased caffeine. 

"You should sleep more."

"Wow, Kenma, you've cured my insomnia. Why didn't I think of that?" Kenma snickered in response. Kuroo glanced at what he was drawing. 

"Can I see?" 

Kenma tipped the page towards Kuroo. It was a fish (Kenma tended to draw those a lot), its fins spilled across and off the page and gold eyes rendered perfectly.

"It's beautiful, Kenma," Kuroo said in awe. At this, Kenma smiled. 

Kuroo deadpanned "It looks like me.” 

Kenma sighed and lifted his head, staring at Kuroo.

"Why?" he asked, annoyed, but there was that amused tilt to his lips that assured him he was joking.

"The opportunity presented itself." 

Kenma tipped his head down and continued to work. A faint smirk pressed to his lips. 

If this is the beginning of the end, it's not so bad, Kuroo thought to himself as he pulled into the motel parking lot.

“This is the cheapest motel I could find,” Kuroo said, sliding into a place that probably wasn’t a parking spot. Kenma frowned slightly. “Excuse me, are you paying for the first hotel?”

“Fair enough.”

Kuroo grinned, "Cheer up, Kenma. You get to spend an entire week with me." he said, tossing his hair. Kenma shrugged,

"I guess." Kuroo  _ tch _ ed in response. 

"Kids these days, no appreciation for their elders."

"You’re a year older than me."

"But I am wise beyond my years." Kenma's door clicked open but another sound was mingled with the noise of the outside world. Laughter. Kenma was laughing. 

It was rare that you heard Kenma laugh, but it was like rain; it filled the empty space with life. Kenma's eyes usually trained downward now looked towards the sky as he grinned, filled with a confidence he didn't normally have; a type of hope.

Kuroo found himself trying to sear the sound into his brain.

❚❚

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk about this chapter... if you want to give feedback that would be awesome!  
> (also excuse my horrible summary writing whenever i try to get people to read something im like "idk just read it" and it shows here)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really more of a filler chapter. Also a shit ton of dialogue.

▼

“I should make you carry all your bags," Kuroo said, carrying both his and Kenma's luggage. Kenma shrugged. "Two flights of stairs, Kenma.  _ Two _ ."

"Kuro, we took the elevator."

Kuroo leaned against the wall and sighed, "I get tired just thinking about it."

"Sure."

"Your bags probably weigh more than you," he rambled on, sliding down the wall for dramatic effect.

"You don't even know how much I weigh," Kenma scoffed.

"Let's not us forget about the time I gave you a piggy-back ride when you sprained your ankle," he paused, "I'm still not even sure if you actually sprained your ankle, you're probably just lazy," Kuroo snickered.

" _ We do not fucking speak of that _ ," whispered Kenma, unlocking the room door. 

_ Is he smiling? Is he BLUSHING? _ Kuroo thought.

"Kenma-chan are you blushing?" he wondered aloud. 

"No."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Yes you are."

"Am fucking not."

Kuroo clicked his tongue, "You swear too much, Kenma."

"I swear just the right fucking amount."

Their conversation continued on like that. Talking for hours. Fading into a comfortable routine. The words seemed blurred, they ran together in a series of laughs, smirks, and witty retorts. It felt so agonizingly  _ normal _ to Kuroo. A buried part of him wanted uncomfortable silence,wanted Kenma to hate him. He wanted to be pushed away, but they spoke so effortlessly. Each of them had found their niche. With each other. 

It only made the idea of being wrenched apart indefinitely more miserable.

And Kuroo couldn't help but notice that, despite the peeling wallpaper, scratchy carpet, the ominous split in the ceiling, or the fact that the hotel room was absolutely intolerable; despite all the new things Kuroo found to complain about, it somehow felt like home.

**§**

"Kuro, I'm bored," Kenma spoke, looking up from his now uninteresting game, then briefly glancing at his painfully blank sketchbook.

"What do you want to do?" Kuroo said, flicking through a book.

"I dunno. You?"

"Please, Kenma, I am having flashbacks to junior high. Just pick something."

"We could order food," he suggested.

“We’re on a road trip. It’s an official road trip rule that you have to go out to eat."

Kenma sat up and folded his knees, and placed his sketchbook in his lap. He started to sketch Kuroo. 

“You and Bokuto just make that shit up.”

“We’re going out to eat.”

Kenma looked pointedly at Kuroo’s hair, “I don't really want to be seen in public with you.” 

Kuroo threw the book at his head.

**§**

The streets glowed a muted gold. Draped in a lazy sun, the entire atmosphere was drowsy. Kuroo and Kenma left the restaurant. Their hazy afternoon had turned to a hazy evening, and the sunset ahead of them was dripping fire. They walked in silence, picking apart anpan. 

"Kenma?" Kuroo asked softly, his eyes narrowed against the vivid dusk. 

"Hm?" Kenma said, finished the last of the sweet roll. 

"What are you going to do when I leave?" 

Kenma considered this for a moment, his eyes trained furiously on the ground. He flinched as his hand brushed against Kuroo's.

"Why?"

"I worry about you," Kuroo shrugged, tapping his hand against Kenma's once more. 

"I'll be fine," he lied, glaring pointlessly at the ground. Kuroo shifted his gaze to him. 

"You sure?"

Kenma didn't trust his voice, so he simply nodded. 

"Okay," Kuroo said, but he didn't seem to believe him.

"To be honest, Kuro,  _ you _ might be worse off without  _ me _ ," he said, trying to change the subject with humor.

"That is a blatant lie and you know it."

"You didn't know how to do laundry until last week."

"On multiple occasions you have called me to get your mail so you didn't have to go outside." Kenma felt his face grow warm and suddenly hated the notion of having blood vessels. 

"Just shut up," he stuttered, oppressing a smile. 

"That doesn't seem like a good idea. How would I talk?"

"You have the sense of humor of a 13 year old."

"Kenma, you're like 12."

"Why did I have to befriend you of all people," he said, tearing his gaze away from the ground. Snapping his gaze to Kuroo. 

Kuroo scoffed, "I'm a great friend," he declared proudly. Kenma only smiled in response.

Neither of them spoke until they reached the car. 

"Kuroo, I don't know what's going to happen," Kenma finally said, shakily.

"Can you be more vague?"

"You know what I mean," he replied.

Kuroo sighed and started the car, leaning his head back, "Neither do I."

**§**

Kenma loved art. He loved it like nothing else. There was a strange kind of beauty to it. A simple sketch could be an outpouring of his soul. Everyone saw something different, seeing beauty in the things they connected to; ignoring the things they didn't. To be an artist was to connect. To connect was to cope with pain. 

In the dim light of the hotel room, his mind buzzed. There was too much noise to decipher anything in his head. He wanted to silence it.

Kenma looked over at Kuroo. He was pretending to sleep. Kenma shrugged to himself and pulled his sketchbook out of his bag. He started to draw the profile of a tree. Every once in awhile he'd stop to line over the pencil in charcoal, then swear softly to himself when it smudged. A sense of serenity soon fell over him as he fell into a rhythm. Sweeping the trees branches over the entire page, occasionally stopping to erase or add minor details here and there. It was calming. 

Soon he had a partially finished charcoal drawing of a tree, black branches spreading and bleeding off the page. The curves in the branches looked snapped and dead, like a grotesque rendition of a children's book scene. 

_ Cliche _ , he chided himself. But at least his head felt quiet. 

He cast a glance over to Kuroo, who was still pretending to sleep. Kenma felt a sickening twist of dread and confusion in his stomach. He couldn't decipher the strange pang of guilt every time he looked at Kuroo. His emotions felt tangled. 

But for now, he just wanted sleep.

**§**

Kuroo didn't sleep. He rarely did. It was frustrating to no end, wanting to sleep but not being able to, sitting there in the dark, thoughts muddled but loud enough to crush any facsimile of rest. And then there was Kenma, who passed out within 28 seconds of closing his eyes. 

Even more frustrating. 

Kuroo needed to get outside. 

"Kenma," he said to the dark room. No response. The clock read one in the morning; maybe the hotel had a vending machine. He quietly pulled on some clothes and left the room. 

"Night, Kenma," he whispered to the room.

**§**

The hotel didn't have a vending machine. After visiting every single floor twice he could at least say that. Kuroo was sitting outside a rundown convenience store across the street eating ramen at two AM.  _ Oh well _ , he thought to himself. At least the ramen was decent.

_ 'Kuroo, I don't know what's going to happen.' _ The words reverberated through Kuroo's skull for perhaps the hundredth time. It made him flinch, the use of his actual name, Kenma's amber eyes locked warily onto his own, concerned and infuriated. He glanced down at his hands and tried to quell his rising tears.  _ I'm sorry, I'm sorry _ , he repeated to himself, squeezing his eyes shut.  _ I don't want to do this, _ but he had to. A part of him tried to tell himself that he didn't want to leave on Kenma's behalf, but the truth was he didn't want to leave  _ Kenma _ . Kuroo stood up from the cold bench and turned back to the hotel; his own despair burning behind his eyes. 

"I'm sorry," he said aloud. Kuroo wanted to scream. But there was no one there to listen. So he opened his lungs and let the night air fill them with sorrow. 

❚❚


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gay before the storm. (literally)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i vote we collectively ignore how late this is
> 
> i'm actually am halfway happy with this chapter  
> s/o to my friendo [cameron](http://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacameron/profile) for helping me edit (aka she does literally all the editing) she credited me in her [last fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6192133) i was "oh no i Forgot to do that" but anyways her writing is awesome.  
> this chapter is Very short but also Very gay so it cancels thats how math works trust me

▼

Kenma hated small talk to the point of absurdity. Not because it was pointless (which it was) but because it was so _forced_. Honestly, Kenma would've given anything to have someone to talk and laugh freely with, but he didn't smile enough, his laugh unnerved people, and when he spoke it came out as excited incoherent chatter.

So he stopped talking. Convincing himself that talking was merely polite noise.

Then he met Kuro, who was anything but polite; yet he talked as though he feared silence. Any fear or doubt Kenma held was crushed when Kuroo spoke. Even when Kenma looked at Kuroo he felt an onslaught of happiness.

Though, happiness didn't seem like the right word.

At the age of nine Kenma Kozume would've given anything for a friend, but all he had to give was a blue colored pencil.

So here he was staring at the bed across from him, marveling at the fact that a boy like Kuroo Tetsurou was his friend. Well that, and the fact that he was actually asleep. _'Oh shit, he's asleep, right?'_

"You know I'm awake right?" Kuroo asked, smug to the point of annoying, "Surprising Kenma, you don't seem like the Edward Cullen type."

"You don't even know who that is," Kenma was quick to retort.

"I've seen the memes," Kuroo replied.

"I just woke up, Kuro, it's too early for memes."

"It's never too early for memes," he grinned.

"You only like the stupid lolcat memes," Kenma quipped.

Kuroo started to talk before Kenma cut him off,  "I swear to god if you say _nyah_ I'm going to murder you."

They're pointless conversation continued, and, as idiotic as Kuroo was, Kenma was still in awe of him.  


**§**

Honey colored sunlight dripped through the the car windows. It seemed to chase out any last speck of shadow. Bad, tinny music played from Kuroo's headphones. Kenma was trying to draw the dust that pooled in each beam of sunlight; but his focus was being constantly interrupted by Kuroo's insistence to blare his shitty music tastes. It was somehow still painfully audible despite the fact Kuroo was wearing headphones. Kenma sighed and changed the thermostat with his foot. Kuroo, of course, then changed it back.

Kenma then glanced down at his ruined sketch. There were eraser shavings everywhere and any noticeable detail had been smudged into God knows what. He sighed and flipped the page.

The filtered sunlight had sharpened Kuroo's features. His long eyelashes cast shadows onto his cheekbones, eyes brightened to nearly gold discs; everything a mess of black, white and gold.

Kenma opened his pastels and thought, for the millionth time, that if he could capture the life and energy that surrounded Kuroo, he would be a truly great artist indeed.

**§**

Kuroo had missed the turn-off twice. If he was completely honest, he had no idea where he actually was. The GPS kept yelling at him, but it could hardly be heard over Kenma's snoring.

He finally managed to veer onto the road leading to the hotel. Unfortunately, Kenma fell out of his seat and promptly to the floor, still asleep.

"Amazing," Kuroo muttered, deciding to let him sleep on the floor for the remainder of the journey.

The hotel they pulled into was far nicer than the last, given the fact Kenma had made the reservation.

"Wake up," Kuroo said, throwing an empty to-go coffee cup at him.

"My head hurts," was the automatic reply.

"Wear your fucking seat-belt next time."

Kenma glared, and after a few minutes of struggling managed to open the passenger door and fall out of the car.

Kuroo laughed until they reached to hotel room. Then he stopped laughing.

_Well, shit._

There was one bed.

He gave a snort of indignation, "You fucked up, Kenma."

"This is why I hate phone-calls."

"Blame the phone-call."

"Yes."

Kuroo smirked.

  **§**

Kenma was so much better at video games than Kuroo it was _annoying_. And maybe impressive.

  
After reluctantly admitting defeat several times, Kuroo flipped through whatever books the hotel had while Kenma complained about the shitty internet connection. Kenma watched (and made fun of) the shows on cable, Kuroo occasionally reenacting scenes to Kenma's dismay. They talked continuously, until the sun disappeared behind the hills and Kenma gradually grew more frustrated by Kuroo's refusal to sleep.

"If you don't go to bed I'm going to kill you with this lamp," Kenma said from across the room.

"It's only twelve," Kuroo said, fidgeting with a paper airplane he had made out of a page in a phone-book. He was always restless at night.

"It's three AM; if I don't get sleep I'm going to kill you."

"You know, death threats are more effective if you use them sparingly," Kuroo padded over to Kenma nonetheless. Kenma remained silent as he crawled into the bed.

The silence was deafening. Kuroo hated silence. He let himself focus on Kenma's breathing; the soft, rustling, sound filling the empty quiet.  But he still felt as though he didn't talk right now his throat was going to catch fire.

"Kenma?"

"Yeah?"

The sound of his voice provided relief from an unknown fear. Kuroo sighed into the room, the noise seemed deafening.

“Kuro?” Kenma asked quietly, uneasy.

"If you can't create or destroy atoms and your brain is matter; what are thoughts made of?" Kuroo opened his eyes and turned to look at Kenma, despite the overwhelming darkness that coated the room.

Kenma made a noise of annoyance but said nothing.

"Does life have purpose without death? What language do animals think in?" He asked, smirk plastered onto his face as Kenma sighed.  

"This is why no one invited you to sleep-overs," Kenma replied. Oddly enough, his tone had softened.

"Except you."

"Except me."

Kuroo felt heat rush to his face and was thankful for the darkness. There was a few moments of silence, but comfortable silence. Each of them staring at the ceiling as though they could see the stars.  

Suddenly, Kenma grabbed Kuroo's hand, interlocking their fingers. Kuroo's heart pounded in his chest, yet a sort of calm fell over him.

"Go to sleep, Kuro," Kenma whispered faintly.

❚❚


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really more of a transition/filler chapter. Also angst I guess. (?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so short srry omg.  
> also somewhat one time????  
> i really don't like how this chapter turned out but it's like a necessary transition between the 4th and 6th chapter u feel?

▼

For the first time in ages, Kuroo woke up with his alarm. It was around 7:30 in the morning, and the faintest light filtered through the hotel window. He felt his senses drearily shift awake, and he was rather in awe of what it felt like to get more than two hours of sleep. The next thing he noticed is that, miraculously, his hand was still intertwined with Kenma's. Kenma, of course, was still asleep despite the trilling of the alarm that filled the room. Kuroo _tched_ faintly; he was fairly sure the boy would sleep through the apocalypse. Kuroo turned the alarm off and laid back. And somehow, everything was right.

**§**

Soft light had begun to stream through the window, Kuroo really didn’t want to move, but it was getting late in the morning.

"Kenma," Kuroo said, elbowing him gently, "wake up."

Kenma made a noise of annoyance, "Five minutes."

"I've been sitting here for half an hour. Do you know how difficult it is to read a book with one hand?"

He replied as Kenma's eyes shot open, vivid amber in the low light.

"Ugh," was Kenma's only response as he stood up. Kenma's hand slipped from his, and he felt an odd sort of emptiness return to him.

Or something.

**§**

Shortly after they started driving it started to rain. The sky had darkened to a charcoal black, shot with streaks of navy blue. The rhythmic drumming of the rain seemed to calm the atmosphere in the car. Kenma kept glancing out the window, then scribbling in his sketchbook. Not a speck of sunlight traced his face, yet his eyes glowed like embers.

"Kuro," he said suddenly, tapping his pencil thoughtfully against his cheek.

"Hm?" Kuroo replied. His heart gave a sickening twist of dread in his chest. _Traitor_ , he thought.

"What do you think of art?" Kenma asked, not looking up from his sketchbook, which he was now fanning through.

"What kind of question is that? Perhaps you'd like to ask me the meaning of life next."

"Ha."

Kuroo considered this, he'd never thought about it; art was just... art. Kenma cared, though, and whenever Kuroo found himself staring at Kenma, there was a sort of storm in his eyes. Like instead of seeing life, he saw art. As though everything around him was beauty. If you knew Kenma, he seemed apathetic, but Kuroo knew he cared profoundly. He was just controlled. Kenma evaluated and measured everything – art was when he didn't have to.

"I don't care," Kuroo finally responded. Kenma's eyes shifted to him quickly, "I mean, art for me is just something to stare at," he paused, wondering if he should have phrased this differently. "I guess, what I'm saying is that, while it's not important to me, it's important to you, which makes it important to me, but in a different way."

"Kuro, no offense, but you make no fucking sense."

"Offense taken. What I'm saying is that if you care, I care."

Kenma looked at him again, his eyes filled that familiar look; it made his heart thud in his chest.

A few moments passed, the noise of the rain deafening against the sudden silence, when Kenma said again,

"Kuro?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to go into art." The wistfulness in his voice was somewhat drowned by remorse.

"Shocker," Kuroo replied, smirking. Kenma smiled.

A few more seconds drained by.

"And I've decided which university I want to go to."

Kuroo was somewhat confused by Kenma's sudden tangent. Then the realization hit him.

"It's different than the one you're going to," Kenma practically whispered.

And somehow, everything was wrong.

**§**

"Oh."

One sad, single syllable and Kenma felt his throat tighten with guilt. It had always been inferred they would go to the same university. Ever since they were children, they would talk about what they would be. _Kuro wanted to be a pirate,_ Kenma thought, and his chest tightened. And then Kuroo said the worst thing he could possibly say.

"Do what makes you happy. Kenma, I want you to be happy," he stared out the window, eyes flitting across the road, the darkness of the rain shrouding them.

_You make me happy_.

Panic filled Kenma head and suddenly he can't think. His mind reached for fear and misplaced rage.

"I didn't ask for permission," he snapped. It felt like his lungs are collapsing, and his heart was on fire. Soon, the all too familiar sensation of what it feels like to not be able to breathe set in.

"Kenma? Kenma, it's okay," Kuroo's voice is hoarse, edged with pained concern.

"Leave me alone," he barely choked out, "leave me alone," he whispered again between his hitched breathing. Kuroo flinched and turned away.

Sorrow crushed whatever breath remained in Kenma's chest. Shakily he tells himself to stare out the window, the silent rhythm of the trees calmed him until his erratic breath faded into a shaky, unstable composure. Like the next gust of wind would raze his flimsy facade.

He is unsure of how much time passed; the rain had smudged any trace of light into grey.

_I'm being unreasonable,_ he thought, for the millionth time.

"Ku--" he cannot force the words out. Everything is lost; strewn about by the cruel future. His words. His mind. His friend. Torn apart by something he can't control.

_Leave me..._

_Alone._

As Kenma stared out the window at the endless rain; he wondered if anything would ever be right.

❚❚

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kenma seems a tad ooc, but i had a panic attack the other day and i needed to vent.  
> thanks for reading! if you want to comment that would be really cool.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 99% backstory and 1% gay realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. i have excuses.  
> i know i said this might be up early (i wrote most of it in a day lmao) but i really wanted to get it right so i spent a long time working on it.  
> also as u may or may not know; track season has started and i have practice everyday except wednesday and a meet every weekend. im dead tbh  
> anyways i hope you guys like this chapter!

▼

Memories in Kenma's head bled together like a sunrise. Each strange and unique memory with Kuroo a different shade; an overwhelming horizon of color. As he stared out the car window, and watched the trees blur together like dark, stormy a watercolor; everything seemed to happen all at once.

**§**

Kenma was nine when he met his best friend.

"Kozume? Cool," Kuroo said, eyes fixed on Kenma's hand as he draws.

"I guess," Kenma replied; and for some, unknown reason he picked up the blue pencil he had just snagged back from this stranger and started to draw the rain with it.

"Hey, I like your drawing."

Kenma felt his cheeks go a furious shade of red,

"Thanks," he muttered.

A long intolerable silence ensued, when finally Kuroo spoke.

"Why don't you have a lunch?"

Kenma missed the silence.

"The lunch ladies scare me," Kenma answered, leaning his forehead against his sketchbook in shame. Undoubtedly getting pencil on his face. Suddenly the older boy stood up,

"Ha. I'll get it for you,"

"You don't strike me as the charitable type," Kenma said, turning his head up and squinting at the emo-looking boy.

"I'm always this kind," Kuroo replied, almost aghast.

"I didn't ask." The strange realization hit Kenma that he's actually holding a _conversation_.  

"Ah, but you did," Kuroo replied, flashing what seemed to be his signature sly grin.

Kenma sighed, watching the older boy walk towards the cafeteria line. Soon, Kuroo sits back down with a tray of onigiri, which he slides toward him. Kenma couldn't help himself, he stared inquisitively at this remarkable stranger.

"Kozume-chan, you have blue pencil on your nose."

**§**

They sit on Kuroo's bed lying opposite of each other. Over the past few months, the other boy's room has become more familiar to Kenma than his own. Sure, his room is a materialistic mess, but it seems... filled. A stark contrast to Kenma's cold, minimalist basement room, Kuroo's bedroom is warm, filled with cast-away interests and projects. The entire _realness_ of it seems to root Kenma, like he is living a life instead of a single moment.

Well, Kuroo's life.   

The bedspread was soft, and a comfortable humidity filled the room. Sunlight poured in through Kuroo's bay windows. Forgotten homework lied scattered on the floor. Kuroo was tossing a volley-ball against the ceiling of his room.  Kenma  quietly sketched the building that he could see through the windows.

"Kozume, you should do volleyball with me in middle-school," Kuroo said, throwing the ball towards Kenma, who easily deflected it with his sketchbook.

"That's two years away."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't do it."

Kenma considered this for a moment, his eyes lazily drifted to Kuroo, who had a pathetically hopeful look on his face.

"Sure," he said carelessly, but his heart gave a quick beat of excitement.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

**§**

The park was filled with bustling people, the bright, cool Saturday morning was 'ideal for practice', according Kuroo. It had been a year since Kenma and Kuroo began their odd friendship; and it showed, the two were always together.

"I hate junior high," Kuroo said suddenly, after he spiked the ball straight down the side of the rather dilapidated park multi-purpose court. "It sucks," Kuroo frowned, and plopped down onto the nearest park bench. Kenma sat down next to him.

"Why?" he asked, flicking open his PSP.

"Ugh, don't get me started. The classes are all boring. And everyone is so... I dunno. I just hate it. And you're not there and everything is just...ugh," he scowled and kicked the volleyball. Kuroo's eyes then lit up, "Volleyball is fun though. You're still doing that right, Kozume?"

"Of course, Kuroo-san."

Kuroo sighed and attempted a grin but it turned into something more along the lines of a grimace. He buried his face in his hands and mumbled something along the lines of 'thanks'. Kenma felt a pang of guilt because he couldn't help more.

"Call me Kenma," he blurted out.

"Why?" Kuroo asked, distracted for the moment.

"I don't like my family name."

Kuroo considered this for a moment, golden eyes shining.

"You can call me Tetsurou."

"Nah," Kenma hesitated, "How about Kuro?"

"Real inventive nickname," Kuroo paused, "Kenma."

**§**

"Kenma, we live in the same neighborhood, and I've never even been to your house."

"You don't want to," he mumbled, kicking nervously at the gravel.

"Please, Kenma-chan."

Kenma sighed, glaring at Kuroo for a solid thirty seconds.

"I guess," he shrugged. Kuroo grinned.

For the remainder of their walk Kuroo talked about the high-school volleyball team.

"It's nothing extraordinary," he said, "You'll make setter by second year."

Kenma didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't sure if he even _wanted_ to do volleyball in high-school; but luckily their path split.

"Bye, Kuro," is all he had to say.

"Text me, okay?"

"Sure."

When Kenma arrived home, he eased the door shut as quietly as possible, trying to squash the strange fear that rose in his chest.

"Mom?" he asked softly.

"What?" is the snapped reply.

Kenma felt himself choking on his words and considered abandoning the entire thing altogether.

"C-can I have Kuroo over?"

"Just don't bother me," she replied, her shrewd eyes narrowed. She slammed the lounge door in his face.

Kenma exhaled a sigh of relief.

"You're room's kind of empty," Kuroo said suddenly, eyes tracing the fish that flitted about in the fish tank in the corner.

"My mom says that I don't need anything else."  

And Kuroo, bless his brutally honest heart, said the only thing Kenma wanted to hear.

"Your mom's kind of a dick."

"I agree," he replied, and he can't help the grin that made its way to his face.

Kuroo tilted his head, hair catching the faint light in Kenma's room.

"Don't strain your facial muscles, Kenma-chan."

"Asshole," Kenma snapped, throwing a pillow at him, which he easily evaded. Kuroo cackled, drawing his knees up to his chest as he laughed. Kenma shoved him off the bed with his foot.

"Who's the asshole now?"

"Still you," he retorted.

"So mean, Kenma-chan," his eyes darted to the box underneath Kenma's bed. "What's this?" he asked, arching his eyebrows.

"It's my art supplies. Don't be weird."

Kuroo, of course, drug the box out from underneath the bed and proceeded to rifle through it.

Kenma had about five filled sketch books, including his current one, as well as new pastels, colored pencils, and really nice water colors which had cost him a small fortune. It also held all of his video games, an old chess set, and a few forgotten packages of pocky. Kuroo snatched the chess set and some pocky which he immediately ate.

"You're disgusting."

Kuroo winked. He started to set up the chess set. Kenma hesitantly grabbed a package of pocky and folded his legs under him.

"I didn't know you played chess," he said, watching Kuroo's hands move as he set up the pieces.

"My dad taught me before he died," Kuroo set the last three pieces into place, hands weaving nimbly.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Kuroo replied, uncharacteristically quiet. He slid the pawn in front of his knight forwards two spaces. Kenma focused on him, trying to think of something to say.

"I'm totally going to win," he said finally. And Kuroo grinned.

After three games of chess it was suffice to say that Kenma had totally won.

"Someday, Kenma. I'm going to win at chess. I promise."

"Will not."

"Will too."

And so on.

Kenma found himself thinking he might want to do volleyball next year after all.

**§**

The upperclassmen didn't like Kenma. His lungs ached everyday for the extra laps he was forced to run. Now, his mind is always on edge; he flinches at the drop of a pin. His first year was excruciating, everything seemed foggy and hazed, and he couldn't quite understand why.

It might have to do with the fact that for the first time since he knew him; his best friend didn't understand him.

"The senpais are nice," Kuroo paused, "You're just new I guess."

"They hate me," Kenma spit. A wave of dread and anger rose in his throat.

"You're just paranoid, Kenma."

 _Paranoid. Delusional. Sensitive._ The words flashed in his mind; how many times he had heard them can hardly be counted. Kenma bit his tongue angrily, and choked back the words that rose tight in his throat; pushed back the fire in his eyes. He wanted to say something; yet the a little nagging voice whispered in the back of his mind.  

_'You're just paranoid.'_

Instead he says the first words that came to mind,

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Keep running," the words snaked of his senpai's tongue, spit like poison. He hadn't bothered to learn any of their names, he didn't care. Perhaps it was fear, pride, or _paranoia_ , but he complied. Back and forth across the gym, the thud of feet pounded in his ears. And then again.

Kenma was tired. Exhausted both physically and mentally. He was tired of control, sick of this new emptiness that plagued him. Quiet, raging, panic boiled in his chest, compressing his lungs, his voice.

He ran for the door, ignoring the dread in his chest. He collided with the door, the force reverberating throughout his bones.

_I'm going to quit, I swear to god._

He hates getting tired, he doesn't care about the matches, his teammates basically hate him, what's the point? His subconscious answered him.

_Kuro._

And Kenma was _angry_ . Because any new people he meets, he fears. Except Kuroo. Because even friends of his, he always doubts. Except Kuroo. Because he fears abandonment from _everyone_. Except Kuroo.

But now, his brain flooded him with insecurities, and they stung. Suddenly, Kenma couldn't hold it in anymore. He collapsed against the door.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" A voice snarled.

 _Boy do I wish I knew,_ Kenma answered in his head.

"Leave him the fuck alone."

The voice is so familiar to Kenma it ached. It seemed rip him from oblivion.

"Whatever," one of his seniors snarked. And then they left, simple as that. For the thousandth time, Kenma marveled at Kuroo.

Kuroo sank down next to Kenma. The sad sheen in his eyes portraying what he probably can't say. Abruptly, he pulled Kenma into a hug. Kenma's heart thudded dully in his chest. A strange onset of relief flooded his head.

"I'm sorry."

Kenma swallowed nervously as he felt Kuroo's hair against his cheek.

"It's okay," Kenma replied as he tightened his arms around Kuroo's neck.

"You're amazing."

And his anger dissolves.

**§**

"I cannot believe you've never been to this cafe," Kuroo's face was flushed with the fall, golden eyes contrasted against the blackening leaves. Kenma smiled and shrugged his shoulders, kicking at the tangle of colorful leaves on the ground.

"You're gonna have the best birthday ever."

"Are you sure about that?" Kenma tried and failed to contain his grin.

"Yep," Kuroo replied, leading him to the cafe.

Kenma tilted his face towards the sky and focused on the swirling leaves and trails of gold.

A few minutes later they arrived at the cafe that Kuroo spoke so highly of. Kenma's fingers were stiff from the cold, nonetheless he nervously pulled out his game and started to play.

"Can I take your order?" The waitress asked cheerfully.

Kenma twitched nervously, but then Kuroo ordered for him, as he always does.

"Two slices of apple pie and a breve, please," Kuroo beamed. Autumn, morning light striking the faint flush from the cold on his cheeks. Kenma felt heat crawl up the back of his neck and shifted his focus to his game.

A few minutes later the waitress came back with their food. Kuroo passed him the food, his familiar grin made Kenma bite back a smile of his own.

"Holy shit," he said, eating the apple pie.

"Happy birthday," Kuroo smirked.

"What are we doing next?"

"You'll see."

Kenma merely scowled in response, but he could feel joy rising in his chest despite himself.

It was an art gallery.

"Oh," Kenma said in awe. The art gallery was underground, it was small and privately held, so there weren't a lot of people. Dimly lit lights glowed in the short colorful hall, and the soft click of shoes was the only noise heard.

But best of all: the art. It made Kenma feel at home. Colors burned within each painting. A piece of the artist's soul, and a piece of the viewer's. Such different styles all whirled together in a perfect blur, sharp and jagged, soft and blurred. It didn't matter to Kenma what it was, it was all art. And Kenma loved it.

The atmosphere was perfect. Cold but not _too_ cold, the air smelled faintly of rain, people paid him no mind. They all had their own tangles of lives, but for now, everyone was just here to appreciate art. Kenma felt he could have stayed there for hours; so he did. His eyes flitted silently, wordlessly over each and every piece. Kuroo stood behind him the entire time, a curious grin on his face.

Everything was perfect.

Later, when they were being ushered out of the gallery, it was raining – but not the cold, unearthly rain that usually came at this time of year. This rain was _bright._ It fell softly, in whirls and coils, like a piece of art. Golden autumn leaves tangled with blue rain.

Kenma could feel the joy in his heart and the smile on his face, and nothing would break it.

Soundlessly, Kuroo handed him a plastic bag. _Gift wrapping Kuro style,_ he thought arbitrarily to himself. The bag was filled with art supplies, a few video games he had briefly mentioned, and a couple worn books. Kuroo's name printed neatly inside the novels.

Before he could think, he was hugging Kuroo. They stood there wordlessly, smiling, the sky dripping blue euphoria around them. Something was curled tight in Kenma's chest.

Something happy.

**§**

 Now the rain fell in muted, ugly greys. Once vibrant green trees blurred into black. The world seemed to shift around the car, rather than the other way around. Kenma was at a standstill. Life tore through him, giving him no time to even think. His head screamed with the memories. He tried to decipher what this sinking feeling in his chest was but everything was moving too _fast._

Kuroo had always been there. _Always_. And now the prospect of him leaving was tearing Kenma apart.

His head was screaming at him; that couldn't be it. But it _was._ With Kuroo, it always just _was._ Everything was effortless with Kuroo.

Kenma's head buzzed, both with thought and the rattle of the pavement beneath the car. There was something strange wrapped tight around his heart, and it was driving him insane he didn't know what it was.

He could feel the world strewn out behind him in dull colors-- and then he looked to Kuroo, bright as ever. Despite the cold dread that had hollowed him; he felt warmth.

Suddenly, as the car careened off the road into the black forest and slashing rain; it clicked.

❚❚


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This shouldn't count as a chapter I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt bad for how short this was so i decided to do an early update  
> i, of all people, should not be doing early updates

▼

It was slow at first. The barely-there tilt of the car, the slide of wheels, and the forest drawing nearer at a steady pace. There was a jolt as the first wheel of the car dipped of the road and slid. Kenma's breath stopped short instantly, as if a button had been pressed. His heart felt as though it was being compressed by a two-ton boulder. For one eerie moment; his mind went dead silent.

A scream ripped out across his senses and his lungs gasped for oxygen, and then forced it out again. With his heart pounding erratically, his entire body went numb and cold. His spine prickled and his legs jerked as his brain screamed at him to _run._

All within a matter of seconds.

Another wheel lurched of the road.

Kenma's lungs were breathing fire and his heart a bird in a cage. His eyes were glued open despite his efforts to force them shut; forced to watch his own doom.  
He lost all control in the most literal way: a car crash.

The idea crossed his mind for a second, but panic tightened its hold and he started to sob. He sobbed without any air in his lungs – and before he could think, he was dry heaving.

One last sob racked his chest; mingled with salt and a sigh. It is a noise of resignation.

_I'm ready to die._

Everything seemed to speed up again, even though only seconds passed, it felt like hours.

He held his aching head in his hands as he cried and choked, and the forest came spinning closer. Kenma could have guessed the tree they were going to collide with. The impact only a breath away...

With a jerk Kenma was dragged out of his seat, just as the car window shattered and the door crunched against the tree.

_Kuroo._

**§**

Cold wind and rain gripped the car and shook with frigid fingers. A screech ripped apart the air as tires struggled and failed to find traction. The jolt sent Kuroo's knees into the dashboard with sickening force. Pain twirled in his vision like dancing fire. Somewhere far off there was the smell of rain. It didn’t reach him; for his head snapped down against the steering wheel as the car pitched forward.

Everything was blurred by agony.

The car tore off the road and toward the trees. Kuroo hoped and begged the impact wouldn't be too great.  
He heard Kenma start to cry. Every other sound became background noise. He was gasping and shaking, tears running down his face. Kenma seemed desperate and sad. The perfect, hopeful life in his eyes was gone, the familiar amber irises haunted and hallowed by panic and sorrow.

Kuroo hated seeing him like this. He would give anything to restore the life and love that existed in Kenma.

The car slid nearer to the trees. Kuroo wrapped his arm around Kenma and pulled him out of the passenger seat just as the car crashed with overwhelming force. His teeth clattered with the collision.

Then Kuroo's world was colored black.

❚❚

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts my shortest chapter right after my longest chapter thus far*  
> i kno what im doing i swear  
> hopefully i can get chapter 8 up on time but that's unlikely


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just me ranting and fluff and cat-puns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the reason i haven't updated for so long is because im in a mental hospital. i came home for the weekend but i still have to go back to the mental hospital. anyways i saw so many people being encouraging so i decided to write a chapter. don't expect another update next week bc i'll still be in the hospital. i might start updating like twice a month once i get out on the 11th of october. i also have like 2 other fics planned with my friend so if you like my writing that will be up once this one is finished. i'm nearing the end of this fics, theres about 2-4 chapters left. it's been so long that i kinda forgot what i had planned, so this is mostly a filler. anyways i love you guys, i hope you like this chapter.

**▼**

It is impossible to fathom another person's emotional pain.

A human's pain is unique to them. Patterns, thoughts, ideas; it all repeats. However, no two situations are identical. Similar but never identical.

The concept of empathy is a sham merely for the reason that human emotions are so tangled and complex that they cannot replicate twice.

You cannot feel another person's pain because it will never be yours to experience.  

But pain causes pain: it snares and entraps and wreaks havoc upon the people around it.

Pain creates isolation.

Isolation creates pain.

Kenma Kozume was a hurricane of pain when Kuroo met him.

Kuroo had nowhere near the observational skills Kenma did, but it was easy to see. Kenma recoiled when people were near him, he flinched at loud noises, ducked his head when his name was called. Pain and panic swarmed him like an aura, it was in his movements and his eyes.

Yet, Kenma's serial silence made something strange inside Kuroo want to know what he had to say.

So he asked, and was grateful every single day he did.

Kuroo could not feel Kenma's pain, but he would bear it with him.

And that is love.

The true opposite of love is not hate, but pain. While pain rips people apart; love unites them. While pain is unique to one person; love is universal.

It did not matter what kind of love–attraction, platonic, romantic; love for oneself, or others–because it countered pain, and that was what mattered.

Kuroo loved Kenma, in every way.

**§**

Kenma and Kuroo were nine and ten and they did silly things that nine and ten year olds do. They lived with their pain and they laughed with each other. They took a stray cat off the street and it became a lifelong pet, built pillow forts when they were bored, and saved money in a pickle jar and fought over what they should buy.   

Kenma and Kuroo were older now and they laughed and played video games, and held hands when they thought no one was watching. They loved each other but they just didn't know it yet.

They knew now, as they waited in the dark for the unforgiving ground to rush up to meet them. With the few seconds they had before their car crashed into oblivion, they clung to each other because they were the sole constant in each other's lives. They knew now that they loved each other as their life spun out of control, both literally and metaphorically.

**§**

Kuroo had a killer headache, which is to be expected after a car accident. For a moment he felt that cold dread of waking up and not knowing where you were. He felt each of his senses slowly waking with him. Slowly the world around him became tangible again; the bite of the cold air, the smell of rain, the gentle sound of Kenma crying.

_Kenma._

Kuroo sat bolt upright, which only worsened his headache. Everything felt foggy and painful and when he tried to open his eyes the world tilted.

"Kenma," he said softly.

Kenma took a deep breath then turned towards Kuroo, his face flooded with relief. He then wrapped his arms around Kuroo and didn't move.

"Kenma," Kuroo said again, realizing something, "How did we end up in the backseat?"

"You pretty much threw me back here, then passed out, so I pulled you out of your seat so you could lay down," he said this all in one breath, his voice shaky. Kuroo held him tighter as he shook, and Kenma kept crying.

They seemed to sit like that forever, the cold wind whipping through the broken window.

Finally Kenma spoke. "Should we go to a hospital?"

Kuroo noticed the cuts on both of them from the broken glass.

"Probably," Kuroo replied. He had barely processed Kenma's question and decided just to agree.

"I thi–fuck," Kenma started, then seemed to realize something.

"What?"

"You can't drive, you have a head injury."

"Kenma," Kuroo said, dropping his voice to a serious tone.

"Yeah?"

"This is a cat-astrophe."

Kenma made a choking noise and for a moment Kuroo thought he was crying, but he realized he was suppressing a laugh.

"I don't have a head injury; I'm feline fine," Kuroo deadpanned, looking at Kenma and wishing he could make him laugh all the time.

Kenma stopped laughing and looked up, staring Kuroo in the eye.

"You need a purramedic."

Without skipping a beat, Kuroo replied.

"Kenma, you're freaking meowt."At this they both dissolved into laughter. They laughed at their horrible situation, they laughed at each other, they laughed at the relief they were both still alive, somehow.

Maybe they had no idea what to do now, or ever, but they could just sit here in the dark and make cat puns. They would be okay; they had each other.

In the midst of the laughter, Kuroo thought, if this is what it was like to fall in love with Kozume Kenma; he would do it over and over again.

❚❚

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be another chapter sometime after the 11th of october.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a shit ton of angst for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaa i really kinda like this chapter (but i still hate it bc i hate all my writing) i hope you enjoy it
> 
> (tw for suicide mention but its like 1 sentence)

**▼**

Kenma didn't remember a time when Kuroo wasn't there. Which was ridiculous, of course he knew there had to be a time before Kuroo. The only thing was he just wasn't sure how he survived that time. Because whether he loved Kuroo as a friend, or something more; he knew one thing for sure, his life was better with Kuroo in it. 

Kenma remembered sobbing on the bathroom floor at three in the morning, calling Kuroo, and four agonizing minutes later; he was there. This happened often, as Kenma would get bouts of insomnia whenever the anxiety overwhelmed him, the only reassurance being the fact that Kuroo would be awake to help. In Kuroo's arms, he always felt safe. 

Kuroo was there when Kenma's mind came unwound; in one hand a bottle of pills and the other his phone. There were no tears in this moment, just a his dry empty voice as he told Kuroo he was done, then the sound of Kuroo crying over the phone and promising he would be there in 3 minutes. Kuroo was there when Kenma needed him, and he was there when he wasn't. So slowly, he grew to love him, to need him, and that scared him most of all. He loved Kuroo, but he just wasn't sure how to. 

During his panic attacks Kuroo would pull him aside and turn on classical music, and sit with him until his breathing slowed to the tempo of the music. 

Then 5 seconds in a car threatened to take that away. To tear away the calm serene moments, the nicknames, the inside jokes; 5 seconds in a car could've ended all that love.

It was the most terrified Kenma had ever been in his life. He hadn't realized how much he loved Kuroo until one moment threatened to take him away. 

So maybe that was why he reached up and kissed him...

...and it was like a dam breaking. Not simply breaking, but being completely, utterly destroyed by the current. For a few perfect moments, he was swept away in this river, his worries forgotten, wiped away; until there was only the happy memories and the want inside Kenma's chest. 

But then his brain kicked in.

He pulled away like he'd been stung, and the happiness on Kuroo's face almost killed him; happiness that was wrenched away when he said four simple words,

"I can't do this."

"Why not?" Kuroo said softly, his voice echoing with pain. 

"I just fucking can't, okay?" Kenma snapped. 

"God, Kenma, the boy who I've been pining after for probably my entire life just reveals to me he feels something for me and you can't even tell me why this can't happen. God, it's so..." he trailed off but it was too late.

"Say it," Kenma's voice was a whisper. Kenma flashbacked to years of lost friends and painful torment. His own mother’s voice echoed and reverberated around his head. “Say it,” he repeated louder this time. Kuroo remained silent. The combined voices of countless people deafened him, and he couldn’t take it anymore."JUST FUCKING SAY IT. GO AHEAD, KUROO. CALL ME ANNOYING LIKE GOD KNOWS EVERYONE ELSE IN MY LIFE HAS," he screamed, suddenly so tired of this pain he couldn't quite figure out. "Then leave me like everyone else..." he whispered finally. Kuroo stayed in painful silence.

"Can we just go to a hotel please? Can we just fucking do that?" Kenma said, clearing the glass out of the car and tossing it into the rain, watching it glitter in the moonlight. It cut his hands but he didn't fucking care. 

"Kenma, I'm--"

"I don't want to hear it," he said cutting Kuroo off. Kuroo looked at him then climbed into the front seat, starting the car. 

Kenma wasn't sure when he began to cry, but it wouldn't stop coming. He cried and cried, even when he thought he should be emptied of tears. 

For the first time, Kuroo wasn't there to comfort him.

**§**

Kuroo didn't understand. He didn't understand why Kenma pulled away so violently, or cried so softly on the other side of the car. Kuroo didn't know how to fix this. 

Kuroo knew why he loved Kenma. After so many years of figuring it out; he had it down to an exact science. He loved Kenma because he stood out in a crowd. He loved Kenma because he always said how he felt. He loved the light behind Kenma's eyes when he talked about what he loved. He loved Kenma because he did the  _ weirdest _ thing when you touched his nose. He loved Kenma, because there was something honest about the way he lived. Kenma was always himself; and Kuroo happened to love that self. 

And amazingly, Kuroo was the only one who saw how he was one of the most candid, intelligent, and eccentric people Kuroo had ever met. 

He saw this because he loved him, and he loved him because he saw this. 

Without Kenma there to laugh at his unfunny jokes, smile at his ridiculous bedhead, and draw him pictures to cheer him up; Kuroo felt emptiness to his very core.

This emptiness now surrounded him and choked him; crowding him how the darkness crowded the car. The pain inside his chest seemed infinite, as though things between him and Kenma would never be solved. Who knew, perhaps it wouldn't. How sad would that be.  _ "Yeah I realized I was in love with my best friend during a road trip that was supposed to commemorate our friendship and I haven't talked to him since." _ Just the thought of never being around Kenma again made Kuroo's throat close up.  _ It's okay. This is fixable, _ he tried to tell himself, but the doubt at the back of his mind wondered if it was.

**§**

Kenma was still crying thirty minutes later when they arrived at a cheap motel. Wordlessly, he grabbed his bag and clambered desperately out of the car. The rain slashed apart the world like knives ripping reality to shreds. He turned his face to the rain and for a moment felt the infinity he had felt when kissing Kuroo. The feeling faded as Kenma stared at the grey rain, wondering if he would ever get the boy who colored in bright blue rain back.

A few minutes later he was crawling into a shitty hotel bed, remembering when him and Kuroo had laid down together and the world felt at peace. Kuroo clicked the lights off and Kenma had never felt so alone. He didn't know what compelled the words out of his mouth after his long silence but he found himself whispering. 

"You must hate me."

There were a few heartbeats of silence that seemed to last an eternity.

"Hating you would be easier."

❚❚

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next and probably final chapter might be up sometime in november. i hope you like this fic so far im kinda sad to end it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things Happen™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg???? like this is the last chapter i Cannot Believe??? anyways im not too happy w how the ending turned out but im okay with it. i really hope you guys enjoyed this fic i had a lot of fun writing it. anyways im gonna put all my emotions at the end notes lol

**▼**

Kenma awoke early in the morning and the events of the night before come rushing back. Everything about last night screamed anxiety into his mind. Desperately he tried to shut it off. His insecurities roar at him but he quiets them with a thought.  _ You're not real. _ His mind was scattered as he tried to focus on anything else; his mind eventually drifted to happy memories with Kuroo turned bittersweet. 

One fall day, during Kenma's first year of highschool, it was raining when they got out of school. Instead of rushing home Kuroo dragged him by the hand over to the park near his house and they took off their shoes and danced and laughed in the rain for what seemed like an eternity.

When a meteor shower was predicted to go over Tokyo, Kuroo showed up at Kenma's door and forced him outside to his house so they could lay outside at watch it. While Kenma stared at the stars, Kuroo stared at him. 

Kenma remembered the countless times that he would have an art block, Kuroo would clear the nearest surface, strike some ridiculous pose, and say  _ draw me like one of your french girls. _ It never failed to make Kenma laugh. Once he drew a rather grotesque picture of a french fry with Kuroo's face fused to it. Kuroo insisted on hanging it on his wall. 

Fondly, Kenma remembered the snapchats at three in the morning of trash cans with the caption  _ 'dat u', _ and later Kuroo's response of some strange animal captioned with the same exact thing. On these nights you could tell they were distracting each other from whatever pain was keeping them awake. 

These are the moments Kenma fell in love with Kuroo. Of course, after periods of time, he could grow to like people, but he never loved them the way he loved Kuroo. At first all he held for Kuroo was simple platonic affection. The joy of having a friend. As time went on it grew far more complicated than that, and while that terrified him, he decided he wanted to keep Kuroo in his life. These are the moments Kenma fell in love with Kuroo, and as he remembered them, he fell in love with him again. 

Talking, walking, laughing, being with Kuroo in general filled the emptiness that sometimes gripped Kenma. The inside jokes, the nicknames, the teasing arguments, they all helped Kenma grow as a person. He had Kuroo to thank for that. 

Kenma recalled his words from last night,  _ "I can't." _

He decided he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. 

And right now he wanted apple pie.

**§**   

Kuroo was jolted from his sleep by Kenma shaking him awake. He winced slightly at the sight of his face because he was reminded of how much he wanted to kiss him again. 

"Kuro," Kenma murmured. He ran a hand through his already sleep mussed hair. He was blatantly avoiding eye contact. 

“Hey,” Kuroo whispered.

“Hey,” Kenma said back.

There was a moment of awkward silence 

"This better be important. I was actually sleeping for once in my life."

Kenma scowled at him and said, "your hair looks even shittier than normal."

"You love my hair and you know it."

"Do not," Kenma replied. 

"Do too."

"Do not," Kenma ducked his head to hide the sleepy grin forming on his face.

"Do too."

"Do too," Kenma agreed. Kuroo grinned. 

“Um…” Kenma started, then paused, considering his words. "Okay, so I really want apple pie and I would steal your car, but I can't drive," Kenma deadpanned. 

Kuroo's shit-eating grin widened. 

As they drove around the  unfamiliar small town looking for places that served apple pie, Kuroo took note of the rain that glittered on every glass surface. The rustling of dead leaves down the sidewalk echoed like rattling bones. The sky was a pale blue-grey; flat and endless. People hustled about in bright clothing that contrasted the weather. The opening of umbrellas could be heard as people entered the rainy streets. Cold wind and rain trickled through the car’s broken window. Kuroo thought it was a perfect place to end their journey, seeing as how they would definitely have to go back to Tokyo since Kuroo’s car was beaten all to hell.  While they drove, Kenma started on a drawing. Kuroo kept craning his neck to look at it, and Kenma kept turning away and giving a warning glare. 

They finally found a place and hurried inside to escape the cold air. After they sat down, Kenma reached across the table and took Kuroo's hand in his but continued to sketch with his other hand. Kuroo smiled softly at their clasped hands.

The waitress approached their table. "What can I get you two?" She asked.

"Two slices of apple pie, and a chai tea, please," as always, Kuroo ordered for Kenma. 

"Okay, it'll be a few minutes," the waitress replied cheerily. 

A few minutes passed and Kuroo couldn't stop staring at his hand intertwined with Kenma's. He had words on the tip of his tongue, but couldn’t force them out.

“Why won’t you show me what you’re drawing?” he said instead.

“It’s a surprise,” Kenma mumbled, blushing.

Kuroo inhaled, quietly building up the confidence to say what he needed to say. Kenma seemed to patiently wait for Kuroo to speak as though he knew what he was going to say. Knowing Kenma, he probably did.

"Listen Kenma," Kuroo finally said, "about last night." Kenma didn’t look up from his drawing but tightened his grip on Kuroo’s hand. 

"I really, really like you. And I'm really sorry about what I said last night. I want you to know that you're my best friend and losing you would be the worst thing in the world. And while I  _ like _ you, if you don't want a relationship I really just want to stay friends," Kuroo said hurriedly, exhaling tiredly. Kenma seemed non reactant and continued drawing. There were a few minutes of agonizing awkward silence in which Kuroo was both terrified and hopeful.

“You know I like you too,” Kenma finally said.

“Really?” Kuroo asked, trying to control the slow smile that overtook over his face.

“Really,” Kenma went back to drawing for a few more minutes.

Kenma could feel Kuroo staring intensely at him; his expression unreadable as he gazed at Kuroo’s face. Kenma turned to him with a sigh. "Kuroo... I think the thing that scares me most in the world is losing you,” he muttered, “ and… and I can't imagine my life without you and now you're leaving and that really confuses me.” Kenma paused, trying to word what he was feeling, “And last night I said I can't because it would be like finally getting what you wanted and having it snatched away four weeks later. But… well..." Kenma turned his sketchpad towards him and Kuroo grinned the widest Kenma had ever seen him. Kuroo and Kenma leaned halfway across the table and kissed. This time it was a happy kiss, with no immediate end in sight. It was sloppy; their teeth clanked together because they were both grinning, and their noses bumped. But they had all the time in the world to practice. 

On the table, in between them sat a sketch of a boy with long hair that faded from dark to light, standing on his toes, kissing a tall guy with hair that looked more like a scribble than hair. 

Bright blue rain covered the page around them. 

**end.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i actually finished it? wtf? waht hte fcuk??????? im kinda sad that its over because i really enjoyed writing this and i really enjoyed all ur guys' feedback and the support for this fic. i appreciate every single kudos, comment, bookmark, and subscription that this fic received. i love everyone who read and enjoyed this fic. seriously i love you.  
> 38 pages and 11k words later and here we are. its honestly kind of surreal  
> anyways i hope to see u guys on all the future fics im going to write.  
> once again thank you guys for supporting this work, it means the world to me.  
> my tumblr should be below if you wanna scream w me.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me abt kuroken on my tumblr: [@nekcoma](http://nekcoma.tumblr.com/) or: [@esmaewrites](http://esmaewrites.tumblr.com/)


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